Job Offer
by kepulver
Summary: Zartan offers Sabretooth a hefty fee for a job that's personal. Set at some point after the cartoon episode "Computer Complications".


**Job Offer: **

"Hello, Sabretooth. Glad to see you could make it -- I do hope you're enjoying yourself?" Zartan stood, arms akimbo, looking for all the world like a heavy metal album cover come to life. The effect would have been better if he'd been flanked by a group of bikini-clad vixens instead of the three yahoos who served as his lieutenants.

Sabretooth grunted. "Beer's good -- otherwise, th' music sucks, this place stinks an' the sweet young things you've got running around are damn near fossilized." He took a drink from his beer, hoping it would help clear the headache he'd gotten from three hours of tone-deaf punk rock. Enhanced senses were, periodically, a bitch.

Zartan threw his head back and laughed, a deep, booming "Well done me lads" laugh that reminded Sabretooth of Errol Flynn's Robin Hood. The reverb in the other man's voice only added to Sabretooth's headache.

True to form, Zartan's lieutenants hyucked along with their boss. Sabretooth scowled at them all. The mayhem for hire community was a lot like a small town and from everything Sabretooth had heard, the Dreadnoks were the village idiots.

Zartan, on the other hand, was a different matter entirely. Like Sabretooth, he had a well-deserved reputation as a heavy-hitter and a certain amount of juice in international terrorist circles. That juice was what had brought Sabretooth here -- get in good with Zartan and there was always the possibility of jobs further up the food chain. And if Cobra would work with guys like this, chances were they'd jump at the opportunity for a real-deal stone cold killing machine like him.

"Din't realize I should have brought a date," Sabretooth said with a sneer. "You ready to talk business, Zartan or is the circle jerk not quite done yet?"

"Hoi!" That from the blond in the chaps, the one who'd walked in carrying a modified chainsaw. "You callin' us poofters?!"

"Got it in one, sunshine." Sabretooth smirked. "Whadda you expect? You guys are a walkin' Tom of Finland print."

Judging by the way the blond's lip curled back into a snarl, he'd caught the reference. His buddies, on the other hand, hadn't but they at least knew enough to know they were being insulted. The three of them made threatening noises in Sabretooth's direction but he ignored them. and kept his attention on Zartan. The hyenas might bark, but until their master gave the word, Sabretooth knew they wouldn't bite.

Zartan, for his part, laughed. Not as boisterously as before, but he sounded honestly amused. "Settle down," he said to the Dreadnoks as he dropped into a seat across from Sabretooth, mimicking his relaxed pose effortlessly. "Sabretooth's right, we have business to discuss. You three, go posture manfully elsewhere, grownups are talking here."

"I don't think we can trust 'im, Zartan!" This from the brunette with the handlebar mustache and the hippy locks who looked like thinking was a rare and painful experience. "'E's one of them mutants, right? They're dangerous, they are."

"Torch is right!" That from the third Dreadnok lieutenant, a screechy-voiced runt who was going to be the first to die when and/or if Sabretooth decided to kill these idiots. "Heard about it on the telly! They were sayin' how mutants can take over a person's mind!"

"He can't take over what's not there, now can he, Ripper?" Zartan gave a falsely reassuring smile.

Sabretooth snorted. "I wanted you freaks dead, this place'd already have a shiny new crimson paintjob. Now, Zartan, I'm bein' polite an' not tearin' you an' your ladyfriends here into sushi 'cause you _said_ you had business to discuss. I didn't come here t'listen to a pack of Road Warrior rejects work on their Three Stooges routines."

"Indeed." Zartan waved a hand dismissively. "Go. Now."

The Dreadnoks protested, but a quick fierce glare from Zartan sent them scurrying off to a vantage point near the pool table where they were joined by three more Village People wannabes. Sabretooth turned his attention back to Zartan.

"You get those guys out of a box of Cracker Jacks or did you lose a bet?"

"We all have our crosses in this veil of tears," Zartan said with a dramatic sigh, followed by a smirk. "Besides, they do have their uses. Shall we get down to business?"

The doors of the bar slammed open and a pink-haired woman stomped in, followed by a guy who could have been the Hulk's baby brother. The Dreadnoks by the pool table catcalled to her and she answered back with a gesture that wasn't quite the hippy peace sign. "I didn't come here for the scenery," Sabretooth said. "Though that pink-haired frail is easy enough on the eyes."

"My sister, Zarana -- you'd be wise to avoid her." Zartan chuckled. "I've heard it said she's rather like a rabid wolverine when crossed."

"Nahhh, too tall." Sabretooth snickered at his own joke. "So, word is you were askin' for me specifically, why?"

"You're the best." Zartan shrugged, the gesture more fitting to a snooty head waiter. "Particularly for the sort of message I want to send."

"Message, huh?" Sabretooth snorted. "I look like Candygram to you?"

"No, you look like a man who appreciates a challenge -- and a large payment."

Sabretooth nodded, solemnly. "We _are_ livin' in a material world an' I'm a material boy -- how large we talkin' about?"

Zartan chuckled. "A man after my own heart -- how does your weight in gold sound?"

"What'm I doing? Slayin' a dragon? Do I get half your kingdom too?" Sabretooth snorted and glanced back toward the pool table where Zarana was leaning over to line up a shot. He let his eyes linger. "Any chance of you throwin' in the hand of yon fair maid? An' by hand I mean --"

"My sister's affections are not part of these negotiations." Zartan didn't raise his voice -- he didn't have to. The iciness of his tone made it clear that any further jokes about his sister would bring trouble.

"No offense meant, just joshin'." Sabretooth leaned back, resting one clawed hand on the table, his own promise that trouble would be returned. Part of him hoped Zartan would feel froggy and try to jump him -- the money would be nice, but a good hard fight was occasionally its own reward. Somebody out there would probably be willing to pay, after the fact, for the elimination of the Dreadnok leadership. "So, what's the job? Who do you want dead this bad?"

Zartan reached into his vest and pulled out a snapshot, sliding it across the table. The photo showed a man in his late twenties, early thirties standing in the middle of a jungle clearing, leaning against a Jeep with U.S. Army markings. The guy was dressed in grey fatigues and was holding a hand up to his ear, talking into a headset mike.

"His name is Mainframe. He's a member of the GI Joe team and he disgraced my sister's honor." Zartan spoke in the affronted tones of a ninetieth century society fop. Sabretooth nearly laughed -- not only because of how ridiculous Zartan sounded but also because Zarana looked like the kind of gal who'd disgraced her own honor the way they voted in Chicago: early and often.

Still, if this poncy jumped-up thug wanted him to avenge the tattered remnants of his tramp sister's honor and was willing to hand over nearly three hundred pounds of gold in return? Just call him Sir Sabretooth the Mercenary.

"Guy's a Joe, huh? Heard o'them, heard they're tough -- tough t'find, tough t'kill." Sabretooth considered, the first traces of a genuine smile crossing his face. This was gonna be fun _and_ profitable. "'Course, so am I. Could be fun -- got any preferences as to how you want it done?"

"Painfully." Zartan tossed his hair, a haughty, Byronic gesture. "Let him suffer for breaking my sister's heart and let the Joes know that they are not safe from my vengeance."

"Yeah, right, so the usual. Can do. I got a timeframe on this?"

"As soon as possible -- I can give you what information we have on the Joes' movements as well as a partial payment toward expenses. I would expect someone with your reputation as a tracker will have no trouble figuring out where this Mainframe person is." Zartan glanced toward the pool table. "The only condition is that Zarana cannot know of this. I fear she may still have feelings for him."

Sabretooth nodded. "Women, can't live with 'em, can't shoot 'em -- so they say, me I never had a problem with it. Gonna take me some time, but trust me, you'll know when its done. Just make sure you have my money ready."

"But of course!" Zartan leaned back, smiling hugely. "Pleasure doing business with you, Sabretooth!"

Sabertooth gave a grin of his own, just as huge, but a lot sharper. "Damn right it was."


End file.
